A Closer Eye
by J. Rosemary Moss
Summary: Peter finds a way to keep a closer eye on Neal . . . at least for a week. Friendship or pre-slash, depending on your glasses. Ok, leans toward pre-slash, but it's still open to interpretation. Spoilers for 'The Portrait.'
1. Chapter 1

**A Closer Eye**

by J. Rosemary Moss

~oOo~

Neal stared across the desk at Peter, not quite believing his ears. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, Caffrey. Apart from the time you spend working with me, you're grounded."

Neal continued to stare at him. He must have misunderstood—he was too much on edge from seeing Kate to be thinking clearly. One more look into the agent's eyes, though, convinced Neal that the guy was serious.

"Peter, last time I checked, I wasn't a ten-year-old."

"Last time I checked, you were snatching a portrait and risking your probation."

Neal opened his mouth to defend himself, but thought better of it. Peter could have sent him back to prison for that little 'shenanigan.' Instead, the agent had helped Neal ensure a more-or-less happy ending. Two bad guys ended up in jail and the museum claimed to be satisfied with its 'recovered' Haustenberg. As a result, Neal's probation was a little less tenuous.

Given all that, Neal managed a contrite expression. "Ok," he said. "So I'm confined to June's for the weekend?"

Peter shook his head. "You're not staying at June's. You're coming home with me—I'll have the Bureau restrict your anklet to my house for a week."

Neal's mouth fell open this time. "A week!"

"One week. Cowboy up, kid."

Neal glared at him. Could Peter really have his monitor restricted like that? Would he? Maybe he was bluffing. Not that Neal wanted to find out.

One thing was certain: Peter wouldn't bring Neal home just to punish him. As a rule, he barely tolerated Neal's presence in his house. If he wanted Neal there for an entire week, it could only be to keep a closer eye on him.

Neal took a deep breath and decided on a new strategy. "You'll only end up throwing me out," he warned Peter. "You don't like having me in your home."

"I like the thought of you screwing up your probation even less."

"I won't screw it up. How can I convince you of that?"

Peter leaned back in his chair and studied him. "You can tell me why you were back at Grand Central Station on your lunch hour."

Neal pulled off a nonchalant shrug. "Best oysters in town, remember?"

"When you came back from lunch," Peter said slowly, "you looked as hollow and destroyed as when I found you with the bottle in that empty apartment. You disappeared into the men's room and came out a couple of minutes later as if nothing was wrong. Which one was the act, Neal? I'm putting my money on the carefree face."

Neal said nothing, but he found himself looking away. Score one point for Agent Burke.

Peter folded his hands on his desk and leaned forward. "What happened at Grand Central Station, Neal?"

"Nothing. I just like oysters."

There was a long moment of silence. "Fine," Peter said at last. "I'll ask El to pick some up for you, since you'll be dining at our place this week." The agent paused and looked Neal over again. "Cheer up. If you behave, I'll even let you sit on the couch."

"Don't smother me with kindness," Neal said, looking the agent in the face again.

Peter appeared unmoved. He peered down at his desk, ignoring one of Neal's best sarcastic-yet-charming expressions and started sorting his papers. Neal put his hand on top of the agent's to get the man's attention back where it belonged.

It worked; Peter looked up at Neal's face with a raised eyebrow. "Problem?"

"How about three days? Won't that be torture enough for both of us?"

He shook his head. "Sorry, kid. A week's grounding is the least you deserve."

Neal narrowed his eyes at the man, even as he leaned in closer. "Would you like to spank me, Daddy, while you're at it?"

He had intended to fluster the agent—but Peter didn't seem the least bit flustered. On the contrary, he was giving Neal a judicious look. "It's tempting," he said. "I'll wait and see if you act up."

Neal rolled his eyes, but smiled despite himself. One more point for Peter.

Peter must have liked something about that smile—or maybe he was starting to feel sorry for him. He sighed and said, "Tell you what. I won't have your anklet restricted. If you stay put on your own for the week, it'll go a long way toward earning my trust."

Hmmm—maybe Peter didn't have the power to restrict his monitor that much. Maybe it was just a bluff. Maybe. Somehow Neal wasn't counting on it.

"Meaning you'll stop checking where I've been?" Neal asked.

"I won't stop—but I'll ease up."

Neal considered that. Even a bit more leeway would help when it came to Kate. Not that he was giving into Burke's punishment. Kate needed him. He had to figure out how much trouble—and how much danger—she was in. For that, he needed to be able to move about the city.

"Hypothetically, what happens if I don't stay put?" Neal asked. "I'm not talking about running away," he added quickly, noting the alarm in Peter's eyes. "What happens if you catch me outside your house, but not outside my radius?"

Peter leaned forward, giving Neal his classic intimidating-agent look. "I'll have your ankle monitor reprogrammed to my house for a month . . .at least."

Neal risked a tentative smile. "You'd strangle me if you had to live with me for a month."

"Probably," Peter agreed. "So just accept your punishment for the week."

~oOo~

Neal sulked on the way back to Peter's house. He was quite good at sulking. It was a specialty of his. Peter took no notice, however. He was keeping his eyes on the road for a change.

Neal sighed. "My sulking is wasted on you tonight, isn't it?"

Peter nodded. "I've hardened myself to it."

Neal sighed again. The sighs went well with the sulks.

Well, at least Peter hadn't embarrassed him in front of June. When Neal picked up his clothes, he told June that he and Peter were going to be spending some late nights on a case, so it was just as easy to crash at his place. Peter went along with the story.

Neal nestled into his seat, considering his situation. He flirted with the idea of confiding in Peter—of telling him he had seen Kate, only to lose her again. Of telling him she was in over her head. But how could he involve an FBI agent when he didn't know what Kate was up to? Worse, in Peter's mind, Kate meant nothing but trouble. He might do everything in his power to keep Neal away from her, out of a misguided desire to protect him. Even if he didn't go that far, he wouldn't let Neal bend any rules to find her.

No, he couldn't tell Peter. Not yet. Peter would remain his last resort.

"What's on your mind, Neal?" Peter asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.

Neal grimaced. Trust Peter to sense whenever his thoughts drifted toward Kate.

"I was thinking that this is kind of sweet of you—in a stalker sort of way."

Peter gave him a look. "I have good reason for stalking you. You were released into my custody, remember? If you screw up your probation, I get screwed."

"You're not worried about getting screwed."

"I'm not?"

"Well, maybe a little. But you're mostly trying to protect your pet convict."

Peter looked almost guilty at that phrase. Neal wanted to pat himself on the back for successfully redirecting the conversation away from Kate and away from his probation, but he resisted the urge.

"I've never called you that," Peter said quietly.

"Pet convict? I know, but others have." Neal paused to shrug. "I just hope Elizabeth doesn't look at me that way."

To Neal's surprise, Peter smiled. "Elizabeth thinks of you as my other spouse."

Neal's eyes widened, but then he laughed. "I think I love your wife. Well, I am your office spouse, I guess."

"My office spouse?"

"Yeah. That's the person you're closest too at work. The person you share inside jokes with—the person who understands all your gripes about the job." He paused, considering. "Moz used to be mine, but it's more you now."

"I see," Peter said. "An office spouse gives you a close but innocent relationship?"

"Usually—but from what I've heard, if you were going to have an affair, your office spouse would be the first candidate."

Peter glanced at him with raised eyebrows.

"Don't worry," Neal said in a reassuring voice. "We don't have to have an affair if you don't want to. Moz and I never did."

Peter rolled his eyes this time. "I wasn't worried."

Neal grinned. "God, you're a lucky bastard."

"For having such a wonderful wife?"

"For having two such gorgeous spouses," Neal corrected. "Elizabeth is almost as pretty as I am."

That drew a laugh from Peter, even as he slugged Neal in the arm. Neal grimaced in mock pain, causing more chuckles from the pair of them. Once they settled down, they maintained a comfortable, companionable silence until Peter parked in front of the home.

Neal stared at the house—his new prison. Then he managed a small smile. As prisons went, it could have been worse. This one had Elizabeth waiting inside . . . and Elizabeth was just the person to talk some sense into Peter.


	2. Chapter 2

**A Closer Eye, Part Two**

by J. Rosemary Moss

~oOo~

Peter let Elizabeth and Neal do most of the talking over dinner. They were discussing wine, art and fashion trends, and discovering their shared taste in all of the above. In fact, the pair of them were getting on better than Peter liked.

He knew El found Neal attractive—'smoking hot' was the term she used—but that's not what worried him. He didn't mind their harmless flirting either. He'd come to realize that for Neal, flirting was the same as breathing.

No, what worried Peter was that El might grow too attached to Neal. He could picture her adopting him not only as a playful flirt, but as part of the family. But however much Neal liked and respected El, he was still capable of breaking his probation and disappearing. And then Peter would be forced to hunt him down again . . . and forced to throw his ass back in jail. El would be devastated.

Damn. Why had he brought the kid here?

Peter knew the answer: he wanted to stop Neal from wrecking his life again. Despite his past, Neal was a decent kid. There was no malice in him—hell, at times he was downright heroic.

It was hard to square those facts with his crimes. True, Neal had never gotten mixed up in violence—but his scams, frauds and forgeries had harmed plenty of innocent people. In all likelihood, Neal had been so hooked on the 'game' of conning the wealthy and outwitting the authorities that he never stopped to think of the pain he was causing . . . or the ruined lives he sometimes left in his wake.

If Kate crooked her finger at him, Neal wouldn't think of the hurt he would cause Peter and Elizabeth. He wouldn't think of his good friend Moz. He would just run to her, breaking his probation along the way.

Peter was afraid Neal would run soon. Something had happened at Grand Central station. Neal had either found Kate or was getting close. The kid was still obsessed with her, despite his claims otherwise—and despite the fact that she had abandoned him.

Well, if she was going to crook her finger at him, it wouldn't be this week. Peter would see to that.

~oOo~

Neal helped Peter clear the table after dinner. It seemed only fair: Elizabeth had cooked, so she shouldn't have to clean up too. And Neal wasn't exactly a guest, entitled to be waited on. Not that Elizabeth seemed to mind his presence in her home.

"What did you tell your wife about me being here?" Neal asked as he handed Peter a plate for the dishwasher.

"That I was grounding you for snatching that portrait," Peter answered. "Not to mention endangering yourself and the art dealer in the process--El was hoping you two would become an item, by the by."

"An item? What century did you grow up in?"

"I also explained that I wanted to keep you from wrecking your life again," Peter continued, ignoring the insult. "Hand me that glass, will you?"

Neal complied, even as he rolled his eyes. Then he leaned back against the counter and put his hands in his pockets. "What's next tonight?"

"El and I are going to watch a movie—some Israeli flick," Peter explained as he closed the dishwasher and turned it on.

Neal raised his eyebrows.

Peter shrugged. "She likes foreign films. It's called _**Walk on Water**_ or something."

"_**Lalekhet al HaMayim**_," Neal said with a knowing nod. "I think that's the Hebrew title. You'll like it—it's about a Mossad agent on an assignment rife with moral ambiguities."

Peter raised his eyebrows.

Neal shrugged. "I like foreign films too."

"Yeah, I remember. Well, it sounds better than that Mexican one she's always watching—something about water and chocolate."

"_**Como Agua Para Chocolate**_." Neal paused, giving the man a thoughtful look. "I can see how that one wouldn't quite be your style."

Peter looked at him with an expression that was almost accusing. "You probably love it."

Neal grinned. "What can I say? I'm a sensitive kind of guy."

"Well, if you want to see the Israeli flick again, you're welcome to join us."

"My love of foreign films aside, you two might have a more exciting Friday night if I wasn't here."

"We'd have more privacy if I sent you to bed now."

Neal glared at him. "I'm not a ten-year-old, remember?"

"No, but I own you, Caffrey. Remember? You do as I say."

Neal responded with a mock-humble look. "I don't dare forget it, Master."

Peter gave him an appreciative grin. "I like that." He paused, looking Neal over. "That pout will work better on Elizabeth than on me."

"That's what I'm hoping," Neal confessed, dropping the pout. "I think she'll put you in your place about this whole `grounding' issue."

"Trying to play one parent off the other?" Peter asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Neal flashed him his most charming smile. "Classic ten-year-old maneuver."

~oOo~

Neal was moving up in the world—Peter didn't complain about him sitting on the couch. Elizabeth was on one end, Neal was on the other, and Peter was in the middle. Right between his wife and his office spouse, as Neal saw it.

Satchmo tried to climb up too, but Peter ordered him to lie down on the floor. Neal couldn't help grinning at that, even though he felt sorry for Satch. It was a relief to know he outranked the dog.

It was a good night; Neal could admit that. They ate popcorn and drank wine as they watched the film. Neal and Elizabeth kept up a running commentary on their observations. Peter stopped complaining about having to watch something with subtitles. Apparently there was enough English in the film to satisfy him.

They kept talking long after the film was over. Elizabeth was the first to nod off; Neal watched as she curled up against Peter and shut her eyes. Neal gave Peter a teasing glance and then proceeded to do likewise. Peter just rolled his eyes and shoved him away.

Yeah, it was a good night. If Neal had been a guest, instead of a prisoner, it would have been perfect.

He sighed as Peter carried Elizabeth upstairs to bed. He didn't mind being here—not exactly—but he couldn't be trapped inside the house all week. Kate needed him. He sighed again and waited until he heard Peter close his bedroom door. Then he took out his cell phone and dialed Moz.


	3. Chapter 3

****

A Closer Eye, Part Three

by J. Rosemary Moss

~oOo~

"He grounded you?"

Neal narrowed his eyes. Instead of outraged, Mozzie sounded surprised--and a little impressed.

"Yeah. Except for work, I'm unofficially confined to his house for a week."

There was a long pause. "A week's not bad," Mozzie said at last. "And I can see Agent Burke's point. He's just worried about you."

"Moz, I can't stay here for a week!" Neal didn't spell the problem out; Peter was right upstairs, and he might be coming down any minute.

"Look, a week off will be good for you. Don't worry. If anyone needs you, they'll find a way to get in touch."

Neal knew how to translate: 'Kate will figure out how to contact you if she so desires. Forget about her until she does.' Moz was all for figuring out what the mystery man wanted--but he wasn't convinced Kate was in danger. Neal, however, knew she wasn't playing him. Or if she was, it was for a good reason.

Neal sighed. Moz had no intention of helping him at present.

"Does June know where you are?" Mozzie asked.

"Yeah," Neal said. "But I told her that I was crashing here because Peter and I would be working late each night."

"Do you mind if I . . ."

Neal sighed. "No, I don't mind. You can still crash at my place. Night, Moz."

Neal clicked off the phone, pocketed it and stared straight ahead without really seeing anything.

"What's wrong, Neal? Did Haversham side with me?"

Neal glanced up at Peter, who was just coming down the stairs. "Yeah," he answered, his voice expressionless.

Peter took a seat beside him on the couch. "Was tonight so awful?"

Neal shook his head and even managed a small smile. "No. Tonight was great. It's just . . ." He shrugged as he let his voice trail off.

"It's just what? No, never mind," Peter said, his voice suddenly sour. "You've never been good at taking your punishment, have you? You don't think the rules apply to you."

Neal felt himself go cold as he remembered the hellish years in prison. He shifted so that he could face the agent. "I served almost my entire sentence. I only left to find Kate."

Peter stared at him for a long moment, as if debating whether he should say something about foolish romantic gestures. But then his eyes softened.

"You won't do Kate any good, Neal, by going back to prison," he said. "Don't break your probation trying to do her a favor."

Neal said nothing to that--there was nothing to say. He just shrugged.

Peter watched him for another long moment. "You going up to bed?" he asked at last, his voice casual.

Neal shook his head. "No. I want to stay up for a while." He paused to give Peter a defiant look. "Don't worry, I'm not leaving. Not tonight."

He expected a snarky comment from Burke about how he didn't trust Neal not to do something stupid. Peter hated not having the last word.

Peter probably didn't trust him, but he made no snarky comment. "Would you like some company?" he asked instead.

Neal hesitated--but only for a few seconds. "Yes," he said. "Thanks."

Peter nodded and reached for the remote. "Let's see what's on."

~oOo~

Neal woke up with a warm body next to him . . .and the distinct smell of dog breath in his face. He wrinkled his nose and then groaned. "Satch, get off my bed."

The dog ignored him, so Neal repeated the order in his best 'Peter' voice. That didn't work either, so he finally shoved the dog to the side and sat up.

He furrowed his brow, remembering last night. He and Peter had watched some old episodes of **_M*A*S*H_** and **_Family Guy_**. They even caught a showing of **_Raiders of the Lost Ark_**, but Neal drifted off in the middle. He vaguely remembered Peter shaking him awake at the end, in time for the warehouse scene. He must have still been groggy though, because Peter had pulled him to his feet and walked him to his room.

Neal scratched behind Satchmo's ears as he thought out his situation. He was in a sharp, bright guest room--obviously decorated by Elizabeth, since Peter's taste was deplorable--in a house he really liked. (Not that it had the brilliant view of Manhattan that his rooms at June's could boast, but still.) More importantly, he was with two people he really liked.

Satchmo let out a contented sigh. Oh yeah--there was a dog here Neal liked too.

He grinned. So this was domestic bliss: Popcorn, wine and foreign films. Flirting with Elizabeth under Peter's tolerant gaze. Teasing Peter by flirting with him too. Watching old shows on TV. Waking up with dog breath in his face.

He could get used to this. Apart from Mozzie, there weren't many people he felt this comfortable with. There was Kate, of course, but--well, it was different with Kate.

Neal shook himself. What was he thinking? Peter didn't really want him here--he just wanted to keep a closer eye on him this week, so he was going through his stalker routine. And Neal didn't want to be here. Or not grounded here, at any event. Besides, he had a better view at June's.

Still, a week here might not be as bad as he thought. It might give him time to clear his head and figure out why the guy with the ring would be holding Kate--and what the hell this guy wanted from Neal's stash. And maybe he could figure out if Kate was really in danger, or if she was playing her captor somehow.

Neal stood up and glanced at himself in the mirror. His hair was a little mussy, perhaps, and he hadn't shaved yet, but the look suited him. And his t-shirt and sweats were presentable enough--at least for a Saturday morning breakfast table.

He smiled and trotted downstairs, but stopped short when he caught sight of Peter. The agent was sitting at his dining room table with a bunch of papers in his hand and a murderous expression on his face.

Neal approached him with all the caution he could muster. "Ah, am I in trouble?" he asked.

Peter glanced up at him and then shook his head. "No. Believe it or not, Neal, it's not always about you."

Neal slid into the chair opposite him, dismissing the comebacks flitting through his brain. "What is it about?"

Peter held up a hand to stop any further questions. Neal ignored the hand and asked again.

Peter gave in. "It's just a--it's just a hassle with an insurance company, that's all. I shouldn't get so annoyed about it."

Neal frowned. "Why do I think that's not the whole story?"

"Why do you need to know more?"

He gave Peter a reproving look. "Because whatever it is, you're really upset. Come on, you're supposed to share what's bothering you with your office spouse. That's what I'm here for."

That brought a reluctant smile to Peter's face.

"Don't worry," Neal persisted, giving Peter a melting look that had never failed him. "You still don't have to have an affair with me. Exchanging confidences is just a standard office-spouse duty."

Peter smiled again--a genuine smile this time. "Ok," he said. "You win. Just keep this to yourself, Neal. It's not a secret--not exactly--but all the same . . ."

"I will," Neal promised. "Now tell me what's going on."


	4. Chapter 4

_**A Closer Eye, Part Four**_

by J. Rosemary Moss

~oOo~

Peter wondered if he had lost his mind as he passed the insurance papers over to Neal. He was about to share an intensely private part of his life. Memories from four years ago flitted through his head—memories of capturing Neal after dedicating his professional life to hunting him.

It wasn't long afterwards that he and Elizabeth had started trying for children, and Peter had known there was a connection between the two. It was as if an empty space had opened up in his life once Neal was behind bars—once there was no more opportunity for Peter to match wits against the conman. Elizabeth understood. Hell, she probably felt it herself. She had always been his sounding board when it came to Neal Caffrey. She knew almost as much about the kid as Peter did.

And so they decided to fill that empty space with children. Would Neal put the puzzle pieces together and recognize the part he played in their decision? Probably. The kid already saw himself as the center of the universe.

Right now Neal was furrowing his brow, trying to decipher the reports on what treatments the insurance company was covering for Elizabeth—and the lengthier reports on what treatments it refused to cover.

Neal looked back up at him, his face grim. "I hate insurance companies," he said. "But—if you want kids . . . I mean, this doesn't mean you have to stop trying, does it?"

Peter shrugged. "I don't know. We're not rich, Neal. We've already spent tens of thousands of dollars out of our own pocket—and no doctor can give us a guarantee."

Neal chewed on his lip. "What about adoption?"

"It's on the table—but it's also expensive and a lot harder than you would think. Elizabeth and I will have to come to a decision soon. Maybe we're not meant to have kids. Or any more kids," he corrected, managing a small smile.

"Satchmo and me?" Neal asked with raised eyebrows.

Peter nodded.

"Am I at least your favorite?"

"No."

Neal grinned. "I gotta work on that." He paused as his face grew serious. "Mind if I keep these papers today—maybe look over them and see if there's anything you missed?"

"Yeah, I do mind. I appreciate the thought, Neal, but I don't want you coming up with some scam to get us more money."

The kid had the grace to look chagrinned. "Ok. But if it's a question of money, how about renting me a room for seven hundred?"

Peter stared at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"I could move in here," Neal explained, his voice strangely rushed. "It wouldn't be a lot of extra money each month, but it would help."

"Did something happen at June's?" Peter asked, suspicious.

"What? No, nothing happened. Everything at June's is great. It's just that—well, you can use my housing allowance more than she can. And I don't mind it here." He paused, giving Peter a mock-smoldering look. "I like crazy, impulsive, romantic gestures, remember?"

Peter smiled. "Thanks Neal. But I think there'd be some ethical concerns if you handed your allowance over to me—I don't want to be seen taking advantage of my, ah, pet convict."

"But—"

"And you don't want to give up your rooms at June's to live here. That place has a view to die for."

Neal hesitated before answering. "Yeah," he said. "That's true."

Peter narrowed his eyes at Caffrey. Why on earth did the kid look as if he had just taken his puppy away? He was telling him to remain in the lap of luxury, not sending him back to prison.

"Did you want to move in here?" Peter asked, baffled.

The sorrowful look vanished and Neal's smile was back in place. "Of course not—you'd strangle me if you had to live with me, remember?" He paused and handed the papers back. "But, if there's anything I can do about this . . ."

"I'll let you know," Peter promised, not bothering to hide the gratitude in his eyes.

"So what now? Should we make breakfast?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah. El should be getting up in half an hour or so—let's have it on the table by then."

~oOo~

Peter had envisioned a quiet Saturday at home, but Neal and Elizabeth had other ideas. They overrode his objections that Neal was grounded and dragged him off to the MOMA. Peter did his best to stifle his complaints about the long line and the stiff entry fees; now that he was here, he might as well enjoy himself. He didn't even complain as he paid for Neal's entrance—the kid could save the gold card he'd gotten his hands on for more important matters.

Peter had to admit that Neal was the perfect guide to the museum. His depth of knowledge was astounding. Art was a true passion for him and he loved showing off his learning. Peter shook his head at one point. Why did the kid ever get involved with cons and fraud? He could have worked in the art world in a legitimate capacity. Perhaps Neal liked higher stakes—but if that was the case, he had paid for his thrill-seeking.

Peter found himself wondering, not for the first time, how Neal had fared in prison. The kid deserved the sentence—there was no question of that—but he didn't deserve the extra-legal difficulties so many prisoners faced. Peter found his stomach tying itself into knots as he wondered how Neal had kept his pretty face in tact on the inside.

By the time the threesome left the MOMA, they were all ready for a meal. Neal advocated a French kosher steakhouse he liked, until Peter reminded him that a kosher place wasn't likely to be open on a Saturday afternoon. Elizabeth took both men by the arm and suggested a new Indian place. It was impossible to say no to her, so Peter reconciled himself to curry.

Neal and Elizabeth still weren't done with the city after the meal. Peter found himself in an artsy movie theatre, and then in the Stonewall. Neal had chosen the gay club, of course—undoubtedly to discomfort Peter. But El was enjoying a drag queen's performance and Peter didn't really mind the place. Besides, it was a Manhattan landmark.

Was Neal a regular at places like this? Probably not. He was in deep with Kate, after all. On the other hand, Peter wouldn't be surprised to find out the boy wasn't entirely straight. Neal liked to be petted and adored—and as long as he remained the center of attention, he might be flexible when it came to the gender of the person doing the petting and adoring.

"What's next?" Peter asked Neal sarcastically when they left the club. "Henrietta Hudson's?"

Neal looked impressed that Peter knew the name of a lesbian bar--but then he flashed Peter an evil smile. "That's a great idea!"

Within five minutes of walking into the bar, it was obvious that Neal didn't feel out of place as he ordered drinks for the threesome. Neither did Elizabeth, for that matter--she was soon playing pool with a lesbian couple. Peter found a quiet corner and began to relax. He was comfortable enough, he decided. It was an unpretentious place and, apart from the fact that women so largely outnumbered guys, it didn't seem that different from any other bar.

They stayed long enough to hear a live performance from some up-and-coming band. There wasn't a lot of room for dancing—it wasn't that kind of bar—but somehow when the music turned slow, Neal popped up at Peter's side.

"Shall we?" he asked, his face alight with mischief.

Peter rolled his eyes, but decided to take the kid up on his offer. His lack of discomfort would impress Elizabeth, if nothing else. He pulled Neal to him and started dancing—and he didn't miss the surprised light in the kid's eyes. Apparently Neal hadn't expected him to go along with this. That in itself made the dance worth while.

Neal, being Neal, had to up the ante by drawing even closer and resting his head on Peter's shoulder. When Peter didn't complain, the kid laughed quietly. "You win—I can't make you uncomfortable."

Peter grinned. "Homophobia isn't one of my abiding sins."

"I knew that—I just didn't know where your comfort level stopped," Neal said. He paused to glance up at Peter with what appeared to be a genuinely happy smile. "You know something? I like this."

"Dancing with me?"

The kid chuckled. "Well, yeah—but I meant hanging out with you and Elizabeth."

"You're ok spending time with an old married couple, huh?"

"There's something to be said for it," he agreed. "And I fit in well with you two. I'm not a third wheel."

"How do you fit in? As my son? My little brother? My other spouse?"

"Don't forget pet convict," Neal reminded him, eyes sparkling. "But the answer is all of the above."

Peter found he couldn't argue—and that's what worried him. Allowing Neal Caffrey to become part of the family, in any capacity, was going to lead to headache after headache.

Elizabeth appeared just then and cut in. Peter thought she wanted a dance with her husband, but alas, she was eyeing Neal. Peter stepped back gracefully and watched the pair of them slow dance.

Now Neal was the tall one, and Elizabeth soon had her head on his shoulder. Peter grinned, not in the least jealous. Neal had a chivalrous penchant for his wife, but Peter approved of that. Besides, Elizabeth could help keep the boy grounded. And if Neal was going to be an unofficial part of the family, Peter wanted him as grounded as possible.

~oOo~

"I told him about our infertility problems," Peter said. He was in bed with El, his arms wrapped around her as she nestled against his chest.

She peered up at him. "I'm glad," she said. "We agreed not to keep it secret—and it will be nice to have another shoulder to cry on. Both of us need that."

"Yeah," Peter admitted. "He wants to be helpful. He offered to move in and hand over his housing allowance to help cover what the insurance won't."

Elizabeth smiled, but there was a puzzled look in her eyes. "I know you can't take him up on that—the money part, I mean—but do you think he wants to move in?"

"Why would he? He's living in a place worth ten times this house—at least."

"Maybe he likes being part of the family."

Peter sighed. "I don't know. I don't want to see him give up his rooms at June's--and I don't think he really wants that either—so it doesn't matter."

Elizabeth nestled in closer. "You're probably right. I wouldn't give up a place like that--but let him know that he's welcome to crash here any time. Make sure he knows he can come to you whenever he needs to."

Peter ruffled her hair. "You know you're setting yourself up for heartache, don't you? He's more than capable of breaking his probation over Kate—and then he'll land back in prison. And not just for four years."

His wife looked up at him again and shook her head. "Peter, do you really think seeing him back in prison will hurt us any less if we keep him at arms' length?"

Peter let out another sigh and decided not to answer that.


	5. Chapter 5

****

A Closer Eye, Part Five

by J. Rosemary Moss

~oOo~

Neal gave Satchmo a sympathetic grin as the dog padded into his room and jumped up on the bed beside him. Poor guy had been sitting outside Peter and Elizabeth's room for at least half an hour, locked out.

"I know how you feel," Neal said as he stroked the dog's head. "Peter owns me too--but I'm not allowed in his room either."

Satchmo gave him a mournful look.

"Or his bed," Neal added with a mischievous smile, remembering Peter's face when Neal had assured him that they didn't have to have an affair.

Satchmo yawned and settled down.

"That's just as well, right?" Neal continued. "If I fell too far into the 'other spouse' role, things would get . . . complicated. I don't know about El, but I don't think Peter can handle that kind of complication."

He paused, considering, and then smiled again. "To be honest, I'm not sure I can handle that kind of complication," he confided. "Besides, I have to think about Kate."

Satchmo nudged him, but otherwise declined to give his opinion.

Neal sighed, but then managed another smile. "I'll still have to flirt with him at every opportunity," he said. "And I'll have to keep needling him. He needs me to test his limits--I can't have him getting too comfortable."

Satchmo yawned and shut his eyes.

"Yeah, you're right," Neal said. "I'm too tired to think this through tonight. It's just that--I want to stay, Satch. Not all the time; I like my place at June's. But it's not my home. I want a home to crash in. You know, someplace where they have to take me in."

"I think you found that."

That wasn't Satchmo answering. Neal's grin deepened as he looked up at Peter, who was standing in the doorway, just visible from the lamplight in Neal's room. He was in a ratty pair of sweats and a t-shirt. If Neal hadn't known how clueless the man was about his appearance, he would have been flattered that Peter felt comfortable enough to allow Neal to see him in such a state.

"I knew you were there," Neal said as his smile grew smug.

Peter raised his eyebrows. "Is that why you left your door open? You wanted me to overhear?"

"That and I don't have the heart to lock Satchmo out." Neal paused to shake his head in mock dismay. "You're a cruel master."

Peter smiled, but didn't take the bait. Instead he crossed over to the bed and sat on the foot of it. Satchmo let out a happy squeal and promptly turned around so he could put his head in Peter's lap.

Neal frowned at the way the dog ruthlessly abandoned him. "Traitor. And Peter doesn't even let you share his bed. I'm the one who puts up with your dog-breath."

"I'm the one who feeds him," Peter pointed out.

"You feed me while I'm here--can I put my head in your lap? You can pet me too."

That got a reaction. Peter actually reddened, eliciting a triumphant grin on Neal's part.

"Looks like I found the limits of your comfort zone," he gloated.

"Yeah," Peter admitted.

"And that was surprisingly tame. But don't feel bad. You were a good sport about the dance."

"You were a gorgeous partner," Peter shot back.

Neal laughed appreciatively. "Your armor is back in place," he said as he saluted the agent, "but I'll find a way to pierce it again."

"Do me a favor and don't try too hard."

Neal shook his head. "No promises." Then he paused as his face grew serious. "So you don't mind me crashing here from time to time?"

"El and I would love the company from time to time--but don't do anything to hurt her."

He raised his eyebrows at that. "Peter, I'm crazy about Elizabeth. I wouldn't--"

"If I have to throw your ass back in prison, she'll be devastated." He paused for a moment. "I won't be too happy either."

Neal looked away. "You still don't trust me not to break my probation."

Peter sighed. "Let's just say I don't trust your romantic gestures."

Neal turned back to him and stared at him. "I see," he said at length. "Can I ask you something?"

Peter nodded.

"I'm not planning to run," he explained, trying to keep his voice even. "I don't want to break my probation. But if something went wrong--anything--and I ended up back in prison, would you . . . I mean, would I ever see you two again?"

"Yes," Peter answered--and there was no hesitation in his voice. "You'd see us as often as I could arrange it, and El would be sending you care packages at every opportunity. But it'd be like having a son or a little brother behind bars . . . or a spouse."

The agent paused and shook his head. "Don't screw up, Neal. If you go back inside, you won't be the only one hurt."

Neal stared at him for another long moment, unsure how to respond. In the end he just nodded.

That seemed to satisfy Peter. He stood up and turned off the bedroom light, as if Neal was a kid he had just tucked in. Then he walked back to the door. "Night, Neal."

"Wait--am I still grounded?"

"Yes."

Neal grinned as he heard him walking back to his own room. Satchmo got up to follow him, but soon returned. Peter must have locked him out again.

"Tough luck, Satch," Neal said as the dog jumped up beside him. "But don't feel bad. Usually I just have to put up with his lectures at work. Now he puts me to bed with one."

The dog nudged his face under Neal's hand.

"You're right," Neal said, obliging him by scratching behind his ears. "He's entitled. And I don't really mind. It's the price of being home, I guess."

The dog didn't say anything. Presumably that meant he agreed.

Neal closed his eyes and nestled under his covers as Satchmo settled down at his side. He was soon asleep. As if out of habit, he dreamed about ways to scam the insurance company and launder his housing allowance to Peter.

~The End~


End file.
